Five miles meandering with mazy motion, Through dale the sacred
river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, read more

Five miles meandering with mazy motion, Through dale the sacred
river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank
the tumult to a lifeless ocean: And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard
from far Ancestral voices prophesying war!

Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind.

Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind.

People do not deserve to have good writings; they are so pleased with the bad.

People do not deserve to have good writings; they are so pleased with the bad.

A fool's brain digests philosophy into folly, science into superstition, and art into pedantry. Hence University education.

A fool's brain digests philosophy into folly, science into superstition, and art into pedantry. Hence University education.

The chief glory of every people arises from its authors.

The chief glory of every people arises from its authors.

English literature is a kind of training in social ethics. English trains you to handle a body of information in read more

English literature is a kind of training in social ethics. English trains you to handle a body of information in a way that is conducive to action.

Vigny, more secretAs if in his tower of ivory, retired before noon."N.B.: Vigny refers to Comte de Vigny, who locked read more

Vigny, more secretAs if in his tower of ivory, retired before noon."N.B.: Vigny refers to Comte de Vigny, who locked himself in an ivory tower to work without the influences of man and desire. - Pensees d'Aout.

If the radiance of a thousand sunsWere to burst at once into the skyThat would be like the splendor of read more

If the radiance of a thousand sunsWere to burst at once into the skyThat would be like the splendor of the Mighty one --I am become Death,The shatterer of Worlds. - Bhagavad Gita.

Till last by Philip's farm I flowTo join the brimming river,For men may come and men may go,But I go read more

Till last by Philip's farm I flowTo join the brimming river,For men may come and men may go,But I go on for ever. - The Brook.